Let you simulate life, but you change fate every time?!

Chapter 1175 - 612: The Thousand-Eyed Demon Emperor, No Match at All!

Wuyou City.

Countless miles away.

An endless army of Dark Alien Race, like a deluge, is swiftly spreading toward Wuyou City.

Where the deluge passes, everything turns to dust.

Even the snakes, rats, insects, and ants hiding deep underground silently melt into the black mist, becoming part of the darkness.

Not far from the alien army, there is a desolate city ruin.

Sensing the violent shaking of the ground, dozens of survivors cautiously peek their heads out from the corners of the ruins.

The cheeks of these survivors are sunken, their bodies skeletal, and the combat uniforms they wear are tattered, resembling a group of refugees.

However, a faint Spiritual Power emanates from within them, clearly indicating they are Simulators; otherwise, they couldn't have survived in the city's ruins for so long.

Yet when they see the endless dark deluge, their weary eyes are filled only with boundless terror and despair.

"Is that...the dark alien army?"

"The Southern Domain was already conquered long ago, so why are they returning here?"

"Damn the Great Yan Royal Family. If they hadn't ordered the abandonment of the border defense, leaving the Southern Domain isolated and without help, how would we have ended up like this?"

"If I'm going to die, I'm going to die. What's there to fear? I've had enough of this half-dead state, might as well end it all."

The surviving Simulators let out a bitter laugh, having abandoned all hope.

After all, this is a whole army of Dark Alien Race!

In contrast, they are only a few dozen people, and every one of them is at their wit's end.

What could they use to resist this alien army?

"Captain, what should we do?"

Some are unwilling to wait for death and immediately turn their gaze to a one-armed man.

The man is pale, thin, wearing a ragged combat uniform, but his posture is as upright as a pine tree.

And his aura is the strongest among everyone present, his blood energy like a furnace, keeping the surrounding black mist at bay; he is a Fiery Sun Level Overlord!

However, his right arm is severed entirely, the wound horrifying, as if torn off forcibly by some Biological Being, looking extremely shocking.

The one-armed man looks up at the distant dark deluge and helplessly sighs.

"Forget it, this alien army is too formidable; there are many King Level dark creatures within. Unless an Ancient Emperor acts, even a King-Sealing Giant would be useless."

Hearing this, everyone's lips tremble slightly, some wanting to speak but ultimately falling into silence.

As a Sun Tyrant, the one-armed man has much greater insight and experience than anyone else.

If even he says so.

Then it means that they have no hope of survival!

"Boo-hoo, I just became a Simulator not long ago. I don't want to die yet!"

"We survived even the border battle back then, how can we die here?"

"It's all the fault of the Great Yan Royal Family, those bastards. They promised reinforcements and supplies, but we haven't even seen a strand of hair. Even in death, I won't let them go!"

"A bunch of cowardly bastards, hiding behind the Imperial City, making us fight and die for them."

"I must have been blind to join the City Guard Army back then!"

Many Simulators, agitated, grit their teeth and curse.

They, having fled from various cities, harbor deep-seated hatred for the Great Yan Royal Family.

Now, facing impending doom, they curse the ancestors of the Great Yan Royal Family with abandon.

And that one-armed man, listening to the curses, remains silent, leaning against a wall, taking out a cigarette from his chest and placing it in his mouth.

Then, with a thought, a small flame emerges from the index finger of his left hand, lighting the cigarette.

"Captain, you have such a good thing on you, save some for me too!"

"Yeah, if I can take a puff before dying, it would be a death without regrets."

Seeing this, the others immediately brighten up, gathering around, inhaling deeply, indulging in the rising smoke.

"Look at you all, how pathetic. It's the last one, everyone gets a puff."

The one-armed man scolds with a smile, taking a heavy drag before passing the cigarette to others.

Everyone takes a puff, eyes closed, savoring the taste as if dining on a gourmet meal, reluctant to exhale the smoke.

Once the cigarette burns out.

The one-armed man slowly straightens up, then strides forward, heading toward the now-approaching dark deluge.

Watching his thin and frail back.

Those who were making a ruckus gradually fall silent, eventually following the one-armed man without an appointment.

Embracing the resolve of no return, brave unto death!

The dark deluge rolls forward, seemingly capable of engulfing everything in its path.

And the figures of the one-armed man and the dozens of Simulators are as insignificant as ants before the dark deluge.

They appear like a speck of dust in a tidal wave, a single drop of seawater capable of crushing them.

Yet the dark deluge continues forward, showing no intention of stopping, never once considering these dozens of ants.

"Ignored, huh."

The one-armed man looks at the ever-closer dark deluge, a bitter smile appearing on his face.

The deepest despair is not the overwhelming disparity in strength between us and the enemy.

But that, in defying death to face the enemy, they treat us like air, ignoring our existence altogether!